


Mishaps in the Inquisition

by lunaemoth



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaemoth/pseuds/lunaemoth
Summary: Collection of drabbles featuring small incidents the Inquisitor and their companions could get into during their travels. This will mostly feature my main Inquisitor, Herah Adaar, a warrior, but others can be requested.1st - Varric + drowning2nd - Cullen + poison(Prompts with a name + a word are welcome)





	1. Varric + drowning

**Author's Note:**

> I started this little series on my tumblr last year but never published it elsewhere. Putting it on AO3 might inspire me to write more DAI, so here you go. I hope you'll like it.
> 
> NB: I'm French, and English isn't my native language. If you see any mistake, please comment with a nice correction so I can edit it. =)

They had been walking around the Storm Coast for several days now. They were done with most of their duties and walking back to an Inquisition camp when they were attacked.

It was sudden and brief. A few thugs engaged Cassandra and Herah, who quickly took care of them. Unfortunately, they had a warhound. The beast charged Varric like a druffalo, and the dwarf scrambled to avoid him. As he did, Solas promptly froze and shattered the threat.

The harm was done. In his haste, Varric had gotten too close to the cliff’s edge. The ground gave out under his feet. He had to drop Bianca to balance himself but, even like that, he fell.

“Varric!” Cassandra screamed in distress, too far and shocked to react.

Solas froze with a hand outreached toward the one he had started to call a friend.

Herah’s head was pounding. A few words mentioned by Varric earlier were echoing repeatedly in her thoughts: “…I can’t swim…”

In a haze, she dropped her sword and shield and sprinted. With the run-up and a push, she jumped far from the cliff to avoid the rocks below and dove into the sea.

A wave of cold surrounded her.

Her armor was hindering her, but she ignored it. The water was dark and the current wasn’t in her favor, but she managed to locate Varric and pushed through.

The dwarf was sinking like a stone, bubbles going up as he went down. For a few seconds, Herah was afraid that he hit the rocks and knocked himself unconscious. Fortunately, he was moving arms and legs in an uncoordinated effort to resist.

She caught him by the back of his shirt, needed a few seconds to slow his descent and kicked desperately to get them up. Despite his size, Varric was no light-weight, and she was grateful for his lack of armor (which was new because she disapproved of his low-cut neckline: in battle, that was just asking for an arrow to the heart).

They emerged in a concert of gasping (and coughing in his case). The current finally worked in her favor when it pushed them against the cliff, allowing her to haul Varric above a rock and relieving her of some of his weight when he clung to it like a mussel.

“I’ve got you, Varric!” she promised, shouting over the noises of the sea. “Catch your breath, and I’ll bring you back to shore!”

Varric only managed to cough in answer. She allowed him enough time to make sure he wasn’t going to suffocate before getting them to move. The water was too cold and the weather wasn’t getting any better. They needed to get out of it before her muscles cramped.

“I’m going to hold you with an arm around your chest. Don’t resist. Let me do the work, focus on keeping your head above the water and breathing. Alright?”

When she got a nod in answer, she did as she announced, pulling him to her before swimming on her back, kicking her long legs. Waves nearly made Varric gag and she adjusted her position to hold his neck, keeping him above the water. When they finally reached the right current, they were pushed to the nearest beach.

Herah barely felt the shingle against her back before feet splashed around them and two pairs of hands pulled Varric and her to safety.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra was repeating as she hauled Varric away from Herah. “For a few seconds, I feared the worst!”

Worn out, Herah gestured to Solas that she was fine. He nodded before crouching by Varric’s side, his hand glowing as he tried to ease his breathing.

Waves were still licking at them but none of them cared, not even the two of them who were mostly dry (as much as possible in the rain anyway).

“You gave us a fright, Master Tethras,” Solas admitted when the dwarf managed to sit up to expel the last drops of salt water.

“You and me both, Chuckles, you and me both,” Varric replied with a hoarse voice. He groped around for Herah’s leg and patted it repeatedly once he found it. “Thanks, mermaid.”

“If you’re going to give me a nickname because of this, it should be aban-ataashi or nothing,” she complained while removing her boots.

“I’ll call you whatever you want, no matter how unpronounceable it is, as long as you promise to keep me far from the bottom of the fucking sea.”

* * *

 

The nearest Inquisition camp also happened to be where the Bull’s Chargers were camping before they left for Haven. When they gaped at the sight of a soaked Herald with bare feet, Herah ignored them all and stood in front of the Iron Bull. With her hands on her hips, she stared at his bare chest critically. “Is there any chance you have a dry shirt somewhere?”

Before he could answer, Varric swayed in their direction. “Aban-atashi! Here, I’ve got a towel for you.”

Bull glanced between them curiously. “Now, this, I have to hear.”

“Shirt,” Herah demanded in reply before gently correcting Varric’s pronunciation. “It’s at _a-a_ shi. It means dragon. That’s the important part. But maybe you should lie down, don’t you think?”

“I guess so. My knees are buckling, but I’m not really looking forward to the drowning nightmares, if you get what I mean.”

“We can share a tent if it helps.”

Varric glanced at her for a few seconds. “It might, actually.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised.

From then on, Varric never strayed far from Herah when they passed by some deep water, but she never commented on it. Just like they didn’t mention Cassandra and Solas' watchful eyes in those particular moments. 


	2. Cullen + poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @acaranna on tumblr.

Herah walked through the Winter Palace with her head held high, just like Vivienne had advised: “This is a battlefield, my dear, you may not know how to distinguish your friends from your foes but you can make sure that they know who is in charge. You’re the Inquisitor. Chin up, eyes sharp, murdering thoughts on.” Those last three words had seemed a little excessive at first. After one hour in this crowd, it had become easy and necessary. Somehow, when she thought “murder”, everyone walked out of her way. She liked it a lot, and thinking about killing everyone annoying her was a good distraction.

There were a few exceptions to the rule, of course, the main one being the crowd attracted by the Commander. Somehow, the poor man had managed to be surrounded by some of the worst leeches in the party. Each time Herah came to talk to him, she had to waste time getting them out of the way first. At least, she was improving her method.

First, she had to loom over the youngest girls and clear her throat threateningly. They immediately startled and squeaked, looking up at her wide-eyed. Then, she gave them a smile showing all her teeth while thinking about the cakes she barely had time to taste. The girls stepped back while reaching for each other in fright. Finally, ignoring them completely, she used her best commanding voice: “Commander, a word.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Cullen hastened to reply. “Ladies, gentlemen, excuse me. Duty calls.”

The rescue was funny the first two times. By now, Herah was rather pitying her Commander. As he walked by her side to a more peaceful space, he looked extremely tired, sweaty and ashen-faced.

“Are you well, Commander?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied distractedly while pulling on his collar. “It’s this party, I’m not used to it, I’m afraid. And it’s so hot in here… Those drinks aren’t helping either. I don’t know what those wines or champagnes are, but they aren’t very refreshing.” He gulped and licked his lips. “Is everything going well?”

“I need to access the Royal Wing,” she explained in a low voice, frowning at his distracted state.

He pulled on his jacket again. His fingers were shaking. “Wh-? The Royal Wing, you said?” he repeated, a bit too loudly.

Glancing around them to make sure that no-one was listening too intently, she caught him by the wrist and dragged him to a balcony, right beside a light. She cupped his chin with a hand and looked into his eyes.

“Inquisitor?”

She swore. “Your pupils are completely dilated, Cullen. What did they make you drink?”

“I… I don’t know. I tried to refuse, but I was getting thirsty and they were insistent,” he admitted, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh, for Maker’s sake,” she swore. “Those Orlesians be damned, as if avoiding an assassination wasn’t enough.”

“I can… go to Leliana?” he tried, clearly thinking with difficulty.

“No. I need her to make sense of all those information I hear about and don’t understand. I can’t have two of my advisors distracted.”

“I’m sorry, Inqui-.”

“Don’t,” she interrupted him brusquely, “this isn’t on you… Damn, I should have brought Solas, he could have healed you…” She tugged on her braid and the golden threads weaved into it. “Dorian!”

“Dorian?” Cullen repeated, obediently following her as she dragged him by his sleeve back into the Ballroom. “He’s a necromancer, not a healer.”

“You clearly never had to listen to a debate about poisons between him, Solas and Sera. I know much more about laxatives than I’m comfortable with, let me tell you,” she grumbled, striding purposefully, full murder-glare on. Nobles parted before her like sheeps with a shepherd dog.

Vivienne, in the middle of a discussion with The Dowager, caught her eye and nodded in approval. Apparently, Herah had mastered the Murder Walk. Great. If that could dissuade those nobles from messing with her people, it would be better.

Unfortunately, Cullen had to lean against a pillar, far from the gardens where Dorian happened to be. Herah’s scowl deepened, and a wide space cleared out around them.

“My Lady, may I help you?”

Herah glanced at the servant brave enough to walk to her and observed him from head to toes. He didn’t seem too cowed by her. Maybe one of Leliana’s agent?  “Yes. Find Dorian Pavus in the lower gardens, quickly,” she asked, taking a coin from her pocket.

The servant accepted the coin happily and disappeared. Maybe not an agent then, she just might have gotten a reputation for tipping generously and being all bark and no bite towards the servants. Apparently, that was the kind of things they noticed and gossiped about very quickly. Fine with her if that got the job done.

She leaned down to pat Cullen’s back.

“Y-you should go, Inquisitor,” he managed to stutter. “We can’t afford to waste time.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in this state, Commander. Don’t be silly. The assassin will politely wait his turn. Don’t you know that Orlesians are very insistent on manners? Stabbing someone in the back is only allowed when someone is actively trying to stop them and drugging a Commander only happens when he’s really pretty.”

Cullen snorted and let himself fall to the ground where he sat with his legs folded against his chest. “Pretty?”

“Very pretty,” she said distractedly, patting his hair while she glared around to stop people from staring. At least, they had managed to reach a relatively calm hallway.

“I think you’re prettier,” he mumbled so low that she barely heard it.

She froze with her hand in the air and looked down at him, startled. Definitely drugged, she thought before continuing to pat his hair even more gently, pushing away some strands from his sweaty forehead.

Dorian appeared at the end of the hallway at the same time as Cullen dragged himself to a flowerpot to throw up.

“Kaffas,” Dorian swore when he arrived. “What happened?”

“Drugged. At least I thought that it was just his admirers trying to make him… well, you know… but this is starting to look more like poison to me,” Herah admitted, worried. “Can you do something?”

“I can try,” Dorian replied doubtfully. His expression went soft when he crouched by Cullen’s side. “But what about our… quest?”

“Cullen’s health is more important. We’ll do without you if we have to. If you healed him by then, leave him with Leliana and come back to me. Don’t leave him alone. Otherwise, do what you must.” When Dorian nodded, she leaned forward to murmur: “One last thing. I don’t know if this is relevant but Cullen is already suffering from lyrium withdrawal. I thought you should know… as long as you keep it for yourself.”

Dorian froze, glanced at Cullen with understanding then nodded. “It might worsen the symptoms. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I entrust you with him, Dorian,” she said before gesturing for the servant who was hovering in the background. She gave him a coin. “Here, for your rapidity. Do as Dorian asks and you’ll have more.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Commander, I want you back on your feet before the end of the night or I’ll be very cross and forced to kill an Orlesian or two, and then Josephine will be very crossed with _me_ , which you can’t let happen!”

Cullen’s chuckles made her feel a little better when she walked away. She wondered if he really murmured “Dorian, you smell good,” or if it was her imagination…

* * *

Dorian never joined them in the Royal Wing, which made it all the more difficult to deal with Florianne’s trap. When they finally exited this mess, Herah was greeted by Cullen. She distractedly noticed Dorian’s hand supporting his elbow and blurted out: “Are you dying?”

“W-what? No!”

“Oh, good.” She nodded, quite pleased, ignoring Varric’s snort behind her. “Excuse me. I need to eviscerate the Duchess. When that’s done, you’re going to tell me which noble offered you a drink and I’m going to murder-glare them all.”

“The Duchess?” Cullen repeated.

“Murder-glare?” Dorian chuckled, apparently approving.

“It’s called ‘cold stare’, darling,” Vivienne corrected her.

“I like my name better. However, if you want to _cold stare_ the Duchess like you did the time we first met, be my guest.”

“You do know how to please me, my dear.”

* * *

Herah might have made several girls cry and a few lords squirm later that night. Dorian approved greatly. Cullen, despite his token protests, dutifully pointed out the potential culprits. Herah had a lot of fun, no matter what Josephine had to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: The Murder Walk is inspired by Charlize Theron
> 
> Prompts are welcome! You can also find me here: http://ashkaarishok.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at: http://ashkaarishok.tumblr.com   
> Prompts are welcome! =)


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